


Benevolence to a savior

by bpdmercy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7420030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bpdmercy/pseuds/bpdmercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The recall of Overwatch does not necessarily mean a new start. Actions and mistakes from the past will come back to haunt, but for Dr. Angela Ziegler, punishments can come from actions that she would do again in a heartbeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Five more minutes

The summer night was warm, yet chilling. The cool wind brushed through Angela’s hair, sending a breeze down her neck and a chill down her spine. She glanced nervously around the abandoned valley before her and shut her window with a brief slam, a wisp of blonde fluttering then sitting on her shoulders.

  
The Overwatch medic scanned her new bedroom and office for the time being, still packed up and cluttered. Boxes of clothes and parts of her Valkyrie suit sat on her bed, begging to be unpacked and put together into her plain beige dresser. The only items she had actually used were medical supplies for the other agents that had needed them before. There was no plan of decoration anytime soon. In fact, the entire Overwatch base looked like a new jail cell. Very comforting.

  
She glanced around the room once more before sitting down on the only part of her bed that didn’t have a box. Mercy opened the tan package beside her and peered inside. On top sat her halo, dusty despite not having been used for only a few days. With the new institution of Overwatch, Angela had reluctantly packed her belongings and took the first flight to their new planned base.

  
She dropped the headgear into the box and folded it back. Having only arrived earlier that week, she had almost no rest to unpack, all of her time tending to fellow Overwatch teammates and civilians.

  
Angela took a deep breath and pulled out her ponytail, a cascade of blonde flowing down to her shoulders, the ends lightly brushing her arms. She shook her head and ruffled her hair lightly. She removed her lab coat, gently placing it on the floor next to her, then finally adjusted the tank top she was wearing, along with her washed jeans.

  
She leaned against the wall while sitting on her bed, closing her eyes and relaxing for a moment. Mercy knew she would have to unpack that night, but exhaustion prevented her from opening her eyes. Telling herself the biggest lie in universe- five more minutes, then she would go back to work.

  
It only felt like five minutes before Mercy woke up again. Her entire body was sore, her head groggy as well. Exhausted, she sat up in her bed, eyes adjusting to the dark. Which was strange…

  
She didn’t remember turning off her light.

  
Angela looked to her window, enough moonlight for her to look throughout her room. She dug around in her pocket and pulled out her phone, squinting at the brightness but still checking one new message. A grinning icon made Mercy read her message in her friend’s British accent.

Lena: Heya!!! Sorry if youre already sleeping, but we’re having some issues with the power in the rooms!! One of the cords for your corridor got cut, so if you need power, the other wings are available!!

The time was one in the morning, her text barely twenty minutes ago. Angela wasn’t surprised by the inconsistency of power, seeing as the new base was still being renovated, but it was still an inconvenience for late workers, such as herself. Fortunately she had fallen asleep early.

  
Angela stood up, about to test her light switch to see if her lights were actually working, before she heard a quiet thump outside her window. She turned her head, immediately shielding herself as her window shattered and broken glass flew in her direction, knocking her onto the ground on top of her arm. Mercy groaned as she sat up, immediate pain shooting through her wrist.

  
Behind her, an arrow lodged itself into her door. She glanced back at it for a moment, the immediate shock and adrenaline coursing through her system. She looked toward her now broken window, where a figure stood. Unidentifiable due to the darkness, Mercy clutched her wrist and scooted to her back against her door, terrified.

  
“Scream and I will not hesitate to kill you now.” The voice said. Male, late 30s, heavily accented, was all Mercy could tell. No one she had personally met, but… somehow familiar.

  
“Who… are you?” Mercy winced in pain, leaning against her door.

  
“You destroyed my brother,” The man stepped down from the windowsill, crunching shattered glass on the ground from beneath his weight. “I just wanted to meet the doctor who did.”

  
Her heart was racing at this point. What patient had mentioned a brother? None came to mind, but her mind was reeling too much for her to focus. “Who was… your brother?”  
“My brother died. And you turned his death into a joke.” The figure’s tone was angry, yet somehow calm. The moonlight behind him illuminated his bow and arrows as he pulled one from his sheath.

  
Mercy scanned around her desperately for a weapon. Her blaster was packed away in the weapons inventory, so that was useless. Her staff was disassembled, not that it would do much anyway. She snatched a shard of glass from her window, the sharpness digging in her palm and beads of blood dribbling down her hand. She held the glass in front of her defensively, slowly pulling herself to her feet.

  
The man gave a low chuckle, raising his bow with the applied arrow and aimed it directly toward Angela. “I have no intention of killing you, Dr. Ziegler, but I will not hesitate if you call for help.”

  
As if on cue, the electricity returned, both looking up at the lights before facing each other. Before her stood an older Japanese man, medium height yet wellbuilt. His clothing was very traditional and showed off an intricate tattoo design that trailed down his left arm, the same which was holding the bow aimed directly at her.

  
“What do you want?” Her accent was far more noticeable in her state of panic, but Angela bit her tongue and stood her ground, still holding the shard of glass.

  
“I wanted to look into the eyes of the woman who turned my dead brother into a machine.”

  
Almost instantly, Mercy’s eyes widened. She had read his file after saving Genji Shimada and knew exactly who was staring at her. “Hanzo… Shimada.” She swallowed, gripping the shard tighter and looked up at him. “You tried to kill him and you failed.”

  
Immediately Hanzo’s face tightened into rage. “I did not fail! I killed him because I was given no choice, and you ruined him. Genji is not that… machine running about.” He spit the words of pure rage, pulling his arrow back further.

  
“I saved his life, Hanzo… He was transformed.” Angela’s hands were shaking, but she still stared him down. “I did what I had to to save the life you destroyed.”

  
“Don’t think I did not read your file, Dr. Ziegler. I know about everyone you’ve tried to save. My brother was one of your tests.”

  
Angela grasped the glass tightly, her other wrist still throbbing with pain. She had done her best to try and save people, not hurt them. How was that being used against her?

  
Hanzo let go of his bow and grabbed Mercy by the neck, throwing her against her door. His bow clattered to the ground but with his other hand he held his arrow against her neck, just barely enough to draw blood.

  
Mercy gasped for air, slashing at Hanzo’s hand with the shard in her hand. He let go immediately and she fell, desperately reaching for her door handle.

  
Hanzo shook the blood dripping from his fingers and grabbed his bow. He put the arrow on and pulled the string back, aiming directly for Mercy’s chest. “You are a foolish doctor.” Kicking her in the side, Hanzo turned Angela over so she faced him, his arrow ready to be fired at any moment. “Now, listen. I know that your so-called Genji Shimada was involved in an Overwatch mission.”

  
“Genji… is not here. I haven’t heard from him in… months.” She tried to focus on her breathing, and she knew she had a concussion at that point.

  
“I do not care where he is. All I demand of you is that you do not associate yourself or any of Overwatch with him again.”

  
“Why… do you care? He is long gone from Over...watch.”

  
Hanzo lowered his bow and turned away, walking back toward his window. “You people soiled him well enough with your damn ideals. I do not wish for any association with him again. Do you understand?”

  
Mercy groaned in pain, trying her best to sit up, but to no avail. “You are the fool, Hanzo Shimada… You may have tried to kill Genji, but you are the one that misses him most.”

  
“I killed Genji Shimada, but you are the one that attempted to bring him back. Instead, you brought a machine into this world. A machine that I want you to realize is not my brother.” Hanzo stepped onto her windowsill, bringing back his bow one final time. “So do not associate him with yourselves ever again. Or I will be back.” He released the arrow, watching it dig into Angela’s leg before climbing out of her window and disappearing into the cool, summer night.

  
Mercy cried in pain, blood oozing from her leg. She pulled her door handle until her door opened with a satisfying click. Yanking it open with her remaining strength, she crawled into the hallway for any sign of help, but soon collapsed directly outside her doorway. The last thing she heard before passing out was footsteps pounding toward her and panicked voices that soon faded.

  
“Broke in… long gone…”


	2. No tobacco allowed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **mama mercy is mad,,, also hey mccowboy how goes it**
> 
>  
> 
> **im making this multi-chapter just because i actually thought of a good plot idea ! there's no intended main ships, but if there's any characters people want to see more of, just let me know !**

Mercy knew exactly how much pain the human body could take. She knew what injuries would cause what results, yet it surprised her how strong it could be in dangerous situations. Hours after she woke up from being attacked, she could tell her confused and scared visitors what to do while there were no other healers around.

After being strangled, her throat had nearly been crushed, so talking was barely an option. Lena had given her a tablet to type out what she wanted others to say, examples being _“Up my morphine dosage”_ , _“Bring me some water”_ , and _“Reinhardt, please stop crying, you’re making a scene”_. With a broken wrist, this was also barely possible, but typing one-handed was something that she excelled at, being a busy multitasker.

As soon as Angela had been found in a puddle of her own blood, she had been taken to what had been planned to be her new office. Lena had immediately woken up everyone (she was probably just concerned for everyone else’s safety) and taken care of Mercy until she regained consciousness. Of course this caused panic in the agency, but soon discovered that the power failure from earlier that evening was specifically to break in and target said medic. They were long gone, with no intention of coming back.

Angela had been updated on everything going on by a concerned Tracer who darted around her hospital room, making sure every little thing was working properly. The security checks, the electricity generator resets… Assuring, but still didn’t prevent what had happened in the first place. Once she told her teammate to go take a break, Jack Morrison ducked into her room. 

He looked exhausted, his face appearing even older than usual. Not that the silver hair and scars made him much younger. His visor was off for once, almost looking slightly less intimidating. More human, at least, even though his vision was mostly gone and he was legally blind at that point. His eyes darted around the room, almost fooling Angela that he could see a threat outside if there was one. 

She nodded, propping the tablet on her knee and typing. _“Lena’s been worrying all morning. Make sure she goes to bed”_

“I will. But before that, what happened?” He sat in a chair beside her bed, one of the only pieces of furniture currently in the large room. His visor sat in his lap, Angela motioning to it and assuring him that he could wear it. He slowly turned it on, the visual aid showing Mercy in a much-clearer form and allowing him to read her words more accurately.

Without hesitation, Mercy typed her answer and looked away as he took the tablet from her. _“Hanzo Shimada. Warning for saving his brother and involving him in an Overwatch mission.”_

“But we haven’t heard of anything from Genji Shimada since he left.” Jack stared down at the sentence, reading it over and over again. “I doubt he knew that though. The coverage was… selective.”

Angela shrugged, taking the tablet back with the arm that wasn’t in a sling. _“I’ll get my voice back in a few days. Let’s talk about this then.”_

“Right, sorry. You need rest.” He stood, a lingering look over her once before heading to the door. “Text me if you need anything.”

Angela almost physically winced at his cold tone, but realized he most likely blamed himself for what had happened. They always do, and once a concerned posterboy commander, always a concerned posterboy commander.

When Mercy could finally speak simple sentences without straining her voice and could walk without losing her balance, she started taking simple walks around the building. It was easy to get lost, so she tried to keep close to her room, mostly walking up to the roof and sitting outside for a few hours. Sometimes people would join her, but she mostly kept to herself, not used to the hectic involvement yet.

“‘M I disturbing ya?” A deep voice motioned out to Angela, who was lost in thought, staring up at the sky out of the rooftop. The sudden voice caused her to turn her head toward the speaker. There stood Jesse Mccree, former Blackwatch… and constant smoker.

She shook her head, but pointed her free hand at the cigar he twirled in his fingers. “How many times must I tell you about those?’ 

Her tone was soft and joking, which threw him off, seeing as her scolding about tobacco was usually a bit more harsh. He chuckled, bowing his head in a humored apology. “But I’m not smokin’ in yer office, now am I?” He looked out at the sun, shining brightly over their heads. The valley in front of the base was nothing special, just abandoned grasslands and repaired, growing woods, but from a few floors up (Mccree guessed 80 feet, maybe more) the view was lovely. “And since we’re not in your office… Would you care for a drag?”

In literally any other situation, Mercy would have scolded him or turned away. Taking a deep breath, she took it from his hand and chuckled at his genuinely surprised expression. Angela obviously knew the consequences, but she was exhausted and stressed. She coughed heavily afterwards, her throat feeling a bit worse for wear, but her stress felt slightly mellowed for a few moments. “Thanks, Mccree.”

“Jesse’s fine, ya know,” He took back the cigar and blew out more smoke, still eyeing her. Mccree leaned back slowly, the wooden bench they sat on creaking slowly. “So you’re feeling a bit better, I imagine?”

“Physically, yes. Mentally, I am horrified. But, I have no idea how to deal with this. If we get involved we’re jumping into a flame.”

Nodding at her words, Mccree stretched and a slight smile crept on his face. “Good thing you’ve been ignorin’ Jack, then.”

“I haven’t been ignoring him, per se. But he can be a bigger worrywart than myself and I know he wants to talk about a next move.”

“Against the Shimada?”

Mercy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air. “He always takes these things personally.”

“Not quite sure it’s my place t’ say, but he’s been that way since he was a blonde.” Mccree stood and straightened out his pants before preparing to head back inside. “He’s been tryin’ to track Hanzo since that night ‘n frankly, I don’t blame him. But, uh, I’d talk to him ‘bout it yerself, before he does something dumb.”

“Thank you, Mccree.”

“Jesse’s fine, doc. Though I do appreciate the formality.” He tipped his hat and walked away toward the roof’s exit, boots clicking on the concrete. The brief smell of cigar smoke lingered for a moment, musty and overpowering until it faded into the wind.

She coughed again, feeling a bit more like her usual self, and more glad that she put the “No tobacco products” sign outside of her office. With a loud groan, Mercy stood up and followed toward the entryway, feeling a slight pain in her leg. Perhaps it was best she go sit down and rest. No, she needed to confront Morrison about the situation before it got worse. 

As she reached down for her phone to check his location, it buzzed with a message from a frequent texter and friend of hers. Tracer.

_Lena: Call me when you get this!!!_

Oh, goddammit. He must have already done something stupid. 

Quickly dialing Tracer’s number, Mercy flung open the door to the roof and started down the stairs as best she could in her current condition. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t very well. 

“Luv!” Lena’s voice pierced through the phone’s speaker, sending a chill down Angela’s spine. “It’s ‘76!” 

“Yes, I’m aware of that, but what’s new?” Mercy’s voice was sarcastic, yet significantly urgent. “What did he do?” She found herself raising her voice, which made both ends of the call nervous. Her leg hurt and she found it throbbing with every step she took. 

“He got in contact with Genji Shimada and is trying to bring him here!” 

Angela’s breath stopped completely, just for a moment. She even felt her heart skip a beat. Stopping from racing down the stairs completely, Angela stared at the wall in front of her, trying to process whatever Tracer had just said. 

No one had heard from him in months. No one. He had gone completely off the charts with no signs he was ever leaving. How in God’s name had Morrison been able to get to him anyway? And why specifically did he want to do exactly what Hanzo demanded they _not_ do? 

“Doc? ‘re ya there?” Tracer’s voice was quiet now, concern probably plastered all over her face. 

“Yes, I am… but tell him if he does anything before I can get to his office, I’m personally taking that visor of his and-” But when have empty threats ever worked? 

Call disconnected. Great. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **next chapter hopefully within the next week or so,,, also thank you to everyone that commented on my first chapter i was super nervous to post it but im glad u liked it!**


End file.
